


The Spider-web Story

by Cat (ActualBuckyBarnes)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Chris and PJ are Besties, Crushes, Depression, Feels, Fluff, Happy Ending?, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, If You Squint - Freeform, Like, M/M, Michigan, Oops, Pining, Slow Burn, Wow this is depressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualBuckyBarnes/pseuds/Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every story has a million sides to it. So what's the point of a story where only one of them is told? That's what this story is for. A million sides to the same story, just like a spider-web.</p>
<p>There once was a boy with a broken soul and another with one as bright as day. </p>
<p>There was one with a laugh like lightning and thunder and one with laughter like sunshine and a smile to match. </p>
<p>One with a personality as vibrant as the other's voice.</p>
<p>And one whose mind was most visible through his photos and stories.</p>
<p>Although, you'd never know just from looking at them.</p>
<p>And all have lived different lives, yet they know the same story- one of sadness and happiness, stress and relief, and the chaos that is life. So allow me to tell you the story of the whirlwind romances that surround these seven teenagers, trying to grab life by the gonads and trying not to let go.</p>
<p>Jesus that comparison was awkward. I'll stop now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daniel James Howell

Of fucking course I didn't want to move. Who the hell _wants_ to uproot themselves from their friends and school and band?

Well, apparently my parents. Which sucks. They decided that it would be, and I quote, "Good for us to have a fresh start."

The fuck?

Look, I know, I know, it's probably got some sort of psycho-whatever benefits to start over, feel free from life's responsibilities for a while- but that's what vacation's for. So, no, I was not happy about the spontaneous move to Michigan.

Did I mention I live in Britain? Oh yeah, that's a bit important. Well, maybe there'll be some cute girls at my new school. Although, don't American schools work differently than British ones? Would we get free periods? What would the homework be like? The teachers? The students?

I sigh as I dismiss my thoughts and step onto the airplane. I take out my phone and text my friends one last time. Annabeth, Chase, and Tad. I'll miss them. Anna was short, with pale skin and freckles and red hair like fire. Chase had blond hair and glasses that made his face look small. Tad was tall. Tall enough to touch most ceilings. I was- and am-quite frankly, jealous.

And our band was awesome. _Geeks and Greeks_ , referencing Chase's origins. I was the guitarist, and Tad the lead singer. Anna covered bass and Chase played the drums. We were pretty kick-ass, if I do say so myself.

The plane's taking off now, and it distracts me from my thoughts. I suddenly realize something I've forgotten- I hadn't eaten anything all day. Oops. I guess that's what happens when you're trying to get over the sudden loss of your friends and packing and saying goodbye to your annoying neighbor Edith, who _of course you'll miss dearly._

I fall asleep before I get my food, unfortunately.

.o0o.

I wake up as the plane begins to descend and my stomach lets out the most ungodly growl I can imagine. I regret everything.

But I pay attention to the pilot saying we're in Minnesota and landing there, somewhat close to my new house.

.o0o.

"Dan, Adrian, we hope you'll realize this isn't an ending, but a whole new experience." My mum says. Adrian starts clapping in the backseat. I frown. Adrian didn't even have any friends- he's _five_ , for Christ's sake! I'm thirteen, so I've got a handful. It feels like ripping a part of my heart out to think that they're halfway across the globe.

The minivan we were driving in reaches a halt in front of a two-story house that's an odd shade of yellow with a green roof. Green. Why.

Mum unpacks the van as I decidedly do _not_ want to contribute to this clusterfuck, so I merely walk into the house and lay down on the floor. Existential crisis it is.

I'm out before I can even begin to think about the end of all things, goddamn jet lag.

.o0o.

I wake up in a bed that's quasi-comfortable, covered by my duvet and with pillows stacked under my head. There's a note on a glass of water that says, _Drink up! Welcome to our new beginning, Dan! :)_

I sigh and, smiling slightly, drink the whole glass. My hunger returns with a vengeance, so I am eternally grateful when I walk downstairs and Adrian says mum's at McDonald's. This whole 'Moving To Get a Fresh Start' thing was started when mum divorced my dad. It didn't tear our family apart or anything, it was kind of a long time in coming. They were still good friends, but mum just didn't want to be so close to her ex any more. It's not like I can blame her- I am the kid who spent his free periods in the boiler room to avoid his ex-girlfriend.

The evening slips away in a blur of bad American daytime television and greasy fast food. I'm not tired, as I had spent most of the day sleeping, but I try to sleep anyway. I have to fix my sleep schedule if I want to get to school on time in a week, after the short little 'Grace Period' they gave us before me and Adrian have to go to school and mum to get a job.

.o0o.

Halfway through my first day I decide that American school is the worst. They rely a lot on participation, which I don't really do. On the upside, my mum packs my lunch, so I don't have to eat the poor excuse for pizza they serve at school.

I haven't even introduced myself to anybody, unless the teacher makes me introduce myself, which they don't. Go figure. I _am_ the topic of much interest, but it doesn't seem that people are really willing to talk to me. I suppose in American schools, New Kids are kind of a rare break in the monotone. Eventually, though, a kid with purple hair (I know) and a bubbly voice speaks up.

"Hey! I'm Tyler Oakley, who're you?" He asks, sticking out his hand for me to shake. I roll my eyes and shake it.

"Dan Howell." I introduce myself. Tyler grins.

"I suppose it's on my to show you around then?" His grin widens at his own tone. I shrug.

"I'll take that as a 'Hells yeah!'" Tyler smirks, "So, where you wanna go?"

"Um... library?" I decided that he'd probably be best somewhere where nobody went. Tyler leads me to a small room absolutely packed with books of all ages and kinds, complete with a cart of books so old they were falling apart with a sign reading, _Feel free to take one!_ Surprisingly, there were a whole bunch of people there, ranging from a stereotypically nerdy kid re-reading _The Hobbit_ to a heavily muscled girl with her legs draped over the lap of previously mentioned nerdy female and reading _The Technique Of Acrobatic-Gymnastics_. It seemed there were a lot of people there just enjoying the company of others, and enjoying books in general.

"Yeah. This school's a bunch of nerds." Tyler grins yet again, "Where to now?"

"Music?" I ask. Tyler pushes me out the door and down the hall, descending a flight of stairs to the cafeteria.

"The band room's a bit out of the way." Tyler said. Tyler is so energetic that it's slightly off-putting. We walk through the cafeteria and down a hallway, sweet-smelling with something that's a mixture of cork grease, valve oil, and perfume. The band room itself contains only two people, two boys, looking like they just got out of a fight and grinning wildly. One has brown hair and pretty green eyes, and the other has brown eyes and longer hair. One is sitting on the seat of the drum set, the other on one of those roll-y chairs teachers like to have in their office.

"PJ Ligouri. Chris Kendall." Tyler's expression suddenly sours.

"Tyler. Who's the new kid?" PJ asks, voice just as curt as the other's. I glance back and forth between the two. Curiosity will one day be my downfall, I'm sure, but for now I decide to leave them alone. 

"Dan Howell." I introduce myself again.

"Hanging out around him isn't a good idea." Chris says, narrowing his eyes. PJ stands up with a groan and Tyler stiffens beside me, in what I assume is half-terror and half-anticipation.

"C'mon guys, is fighting really the answer?" Another kid shows up, accent apparent. It's Northern, as in, British Northern. I'm beginning to wonder if Tyler is the only actual American here, seeing as PJ and Chris also have British accents.

"Phil, you really shouldn't be here right now." PJ says apologetically. Chris stands up too, and Tyler stiffens even more. I hear him draw in a sharp breath.

"I can be wherever I want, Ligouri. It's a free country." Phil says calmly. He's got pale skin and black hair that actually contrasts really well and _holy shit those eyes are blue_. His voice suggests he isn't looking for trouble, but he wouldn't run away in the event of a fight.

Goddammit, I move to America and suddenly I'm questioning my sexuality _and_ trying to fit into a new group of friends.

"Dan, buddy, not a good idea." Tyler mutters under his breath, "People don't mess with these three and live to tell about it."

"What was that, Tyler?" Phil sighed, "You know I don't want to be associated with them. I'm just their friend."

"Mate, that is the weirdest sentence I've ever heard come out of your mouth." Chris smirks, "Who doesn't want to be associated with us?"

"Your first point is debatable." PJ rebuts, "And I'm fairly certain most of the school would rather we be expelled for... whatever it is we did this time."

"Dan, I think we should leave." It's only now that I realize just how close Tyler is to having an anxiety attack. I decide yes, it would be a good idea to go somewhere else.

"Art. Let's go to the art room." Though I've never had much of an interest in drawing or sculpting, painting's always interested me. So, that's where we go.

"Thank you." Tyler shoots me a grateful glance as we walk down the hallway, "I bet Connor's there."

Sure enough, a perky boy with dirty blond hair and a camera that was probably permanently around his neck introduced himself.

"Dan Howell." My name is starting to sound like a random collection of sounds, I've said it so much today.

"So, what're you into?" Connor asks, grinning. I tell him that I like watercolors and acrylic.

"Awesome! The paint cabinet's right over there, Mrs. Shaffer usually just lets us do what we want during art." Connor's grin is back. I smile back and decide this place seems like a nice way to spend the rest of my day- it's not much use touring the rest of the school when I'm sure I'll be able to find the English room, maths room, science room, history room, and gymnasium on my own (they're the only rooms with actual labels on them. Go figure.).

Tyler actually falls asleep in one of the chairs. I decide that he'd appreciate a nap more than me making sure he stays out of trouble, so I leave him be. I decide to paint something I've had a fixation on for a while now. Eyes. You cannot find a single picture of an ugly eye, no matter what color it is. It's the 'Window To The Soul', which I suppose adds to why I like it. I'm not too terribly good at reading people- probably the reason why it took me so long to figure out that Tyler was uncomfortable with the previous situation- and eyes, well, they always hold so much emotion in them. I pop in my earbuds and get painting. Connor looks like he's developing some polaroids and he's messing with some others, using rubbing alcohol and pens and other materials to change the way the image looks. Tyler's still napping.

.o0o.

Just before school lets out, Phil pokes his head into the art room. Tyler woke up and rushed to his next class, leaving just me and Connor with a short, "Welcome to hell, Daniel. Enjoy your stay!" 

Me and Connor didn't talk much, but he was nice. He had an aura about him that made it easy to just be silent and enjoy one another's company.

"Hey, Ty- oh wait, he's gone." Phil frowned slightly, "Hi Dan. Hi Connor."

"You wanna explain why you made Tyler so uncomfortable earlier?" I don't particularly trust Phil, or Chris and PJ, for that matter.

"He and the others... have a past." Phil chose his words carefully, "I was friends with them before everything happened. You know, they're really quite nice."

"Do you want to explain 'everything'?" I quirk an eyebrow at him, removing my other earbud and placing my canvas on a shelf to dry. The eyes are light blue and there's a mop of black hair surrounding it, pale skin and a slim nose making the face look beautiful. I'm rather proud of myself.

"I think that's their story to tell." Phil said, "I came in here to apologize. I don't want them to make Tyler uncomfortable, but he deserves it. He genuinely does."

"Why?" Connor asks the question this time, replacing the rubbing alcohol and the red paint. He hangs some of the polaroids up to dry.

"Again, that's their story to tell. I'll leave it up to them. Tyler's got his fair share of stories too." Phil smiles wistfully, "I'm sure he'd tell them to you if you asked."

I would have to think about that. Me and Connor traded numbers- although I imagine we'd prefer each other's actual company to texting- and parted to get on the buses.

Damn, American kids are loud.

.o0o.

Me and Connor get to talking. We talk about the stories- and I find out that his love of stories is equal to mine, if not greater. We decide on something.

We'll collect stories. Stories from all of our friends. Kinda like a journal, but different. One story per person.

I guess I didn't count on another new kid arriving either, but I should have. Three days after I get there, a quiet kid named Troye Sivan enters our friend group- or, rather, he's snatched up by Chris and PJ before he's got the chance to talk to Tyler, who seems extremely disappointed by this new development.

So, I guess now there's that to deal with.


	2. Connor Franta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for heavy mentions of depression. Please don't endanger yourself! This chapter is **not** necessary and can be skipped, which I implore you do if you are easily triggered.

I've always loved stories. They were a weird kind of drug, that took me away, higher than anything they could possibly tell me not to do.

I hate my family. There's my mom, who split when I was two and hasn't contacted us since. Then there's my dad, aloof and definitely not qualified to care for me and my brother, who is three years older than me. His name is Charles, and he practically raised me. He's pretty cool.

I guess you could say my life's pretty shit right now, to put it crudely. Charles recently picked up a girlfriend and I'm kinda worried for him- sometimes he comes home with bruises or won't talk to me for days on end without reason. Dad recently took up drinking. So, what did I do? I left the house more often, carrying my camera, and photographed what I could, and made stories out of what I couldn't.

And they don't even know.

I only admitted it to myself recently, mind you, so I don't really expect them to know... but... I'm gay. Charles is borderline homophobic and my dad is so much so that I'm terrified to mention it to him. Ever. Never-mind when he comes home slurring his words and smelling like cigarette smoke.

But then, the first person I could tell came along. Chris Kendall. His smile drew me in to his little group. Me, him, and PJ. We were the closest of friends. I'm still not sure what happened.

I was worried. They would show up with bruises on their faces- like Charles. They would not talk to me for days on end and then suddenly they were my best friends again- just like Charles. They wore proud little smirks on their faces, like the bruises and lacerations covering their skin were something they were proud of. The only way they ever varied from Charles. And yet again, I found myself withdrawing, almost against my will. I denied ever feeling anything for them, and in retrospect, that seems kind of ridiculous.

Around this time a year ago, I didn't feel like much. Didn't feel like doing much. But photography- that was my hot-air balloon, taking me soaring above the clouds. Writing was a close second, but there was nothing like being behind a lens and capturing a beautiful sunset, or a delicate field of flowers, or two birds sitting on a wire.

And this is where the story picks up. The day Tyler Oakley- who I had known vaguely as 'loud' and 'overly-energetic'- collapsed in one of the clay-sculptor chairs and passed out, leaving me with Dan Howell.

Looks like I had found myself a new friend.

Phil peeked his head in and I nearly snarled. I've always had the sneaking suspicion that he's the reason my friends started acting _off_ , but I've never had any evidence. From what I've heard, Phil should be a nice guy. But he's not.

We don't talk much. Phil leaves. Tyler leaves. And then, when the last bell rings, I and Dan pick up our stuff and leave. Me and Dan, we don't really have to talk much to understand each other. And I actually kinda like it. It makes me want to smile.

I remember the next day my life looks up. It's the day Chris and PJ decide that Phil isn't good enough for them any more and move on to Troye Sivan. It was almost worth it to see the look of despair on his face, and the look of soon-to-be-crushed hope on Troye's. But, despite this, I can't bring myself to hate Chris and PJ themselves. I know they're good people. They're good people.

.o0o.

So. I guess that's me. Chasing after people in so many directions I don't know where to start. It's the same way with stories. I always become frustrated and think to myself, _Just start **somewhere**_!

And that brings us to the present. I'm starting somewhere. I'm starting with this story- as short as this chapter has been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is way too short. I promise the next chapters will be so much longer.


	3. Chris Kendall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again. This story is Very Dark and I don't want to hurt anybody so if this isn't your cup of tea please go read floof! Floof is nice.

I've never felt 'at home'. Not in England, not in America, certainly not in my house. Which is funny, it's nice enough for a house. It's a two-story house with French doors leading to my room, which has too many windows to count. Maybe it's that. The lack of privacy- something I can say with certainty that I've never had.

My parents are both nosy little shits, so I became immensely good at hiding things. My phone, my journal, my sketches and song lyrics, my thoughts and feelings. I didn't grow up- I know I'll never grow up- but I became good at putting on a poker face and hiding everything from everybody. I guess that's why Peej and I got along so well.

He never really wanted to part with his story- I would never make him. All I know is that he's from a foster home.

We met on the bus going to school in our third year- or second grade in the US. I told his asshat of a tormentor to shut up and from then on we were fast friends.

I have never felt 'at home', but that certainly doesn't mean I don't have one. Peej is my home, and I'm certain that I'm his. My journal, that's home. The house I reside in, is not my home. The room that my bed is in, that is supposed to hide my thoughts and feelings from the outside world, is not my home.

Peej and I became the trouble-makers. We were cut from the same cloth. We couldn't stand being _stuck_. That's another word I can't stand. Stuck. It implies that there's nowhere to go, nowhere new to explore, and that something is going to catch you if you don't get un-stuck.

We were- and are- inseparable. We made a plan- we were going to run away the instant we turned seventeen. Why not? We would run away and join the circus, or something.

And that answers the question of why we don't keep our friends. We don't want to break hearts in a few years, that's the mistake we made with Connor Franta. He got too attached to us; that's a mistake that lands on all three of us. We attract a certain crowd- the unfortunate little beams of sunshine that you just can't bear to squash yourself.

We never meant to start the fights. We said some things that could be regretted, especially living in a particularly non-progressive area of Michigan. They called us names and punched us and kicked us. We grew used to it. We'd run away for days at a time to escape it all- our families, our failing friendship, our personal bullies. I guess the lack of communication was what eventually drove Connor away- but we couldn't help it.

We didn't mean any of it. But, I guess, that's what made us tougher. The hiding nearly shattered me, but PJ put me back together, and I him. So of course we didn't trust Dan for a minute when Tyler introduced him. He looked like the kind of person who wouldn't understand. The kind of person who'd gladly deliver punches. Of course, when they left, we moved even closer. We sat in the corner and waited for the bell to ring so we could get to our next class.

I suppose I should explain why we were hiding in the band room. Also, you're probably wondering if anybody in this school ever goes to class. The answer to the second question is that this is a small school with about 4,000 kids in it, junior high and senior high. So they don't really count kids, and the security cameras are only turned on at night. The answer to the first question is a bit more complicated.

So, as per usual, the bullies were running rampant and were probably going to attack us if we didn't run, so we did. We ran and ran and ran, but it didn't stop the fact that I am the _clumsiest_ person in existence and I may or may not have tripped over a rock. And that's the story of how we wound up breathless and covered in bruises and scratched in the band room, laughing our asses off because of something I'd said.

Tyler poked his head in and I could tell he was going to panic soon if Dan and him didn't get themselves out of the band room right then. I couldn't even begin to tell you how guilty I feel for making Tyler feel something I've been trying to avoid for so long. I feel greedy for keeping mine and Peej's relationship to ourselves, but sometimes it's better to live in your own little world than anyone else's.

Of course, Phil couldn't help but to interrupt. Poor Phil. He doesn't deserve us.

Phil's life wasn't rough. If anything, he was too soft. He smiled all the time and made 'accidental' innuendos every five seconds. He was too soft, and perhaps that's why he wanted to be friends with us.

He thought he could.

I know that in a while, we'll leave him behind, but neither of us can bring ourselves to admit it to him.

.o0o.

It's one week after the 'Dan Incident' when the greatest thing that's ever happened to us occurred. And that thing's name was Troye Sivan Mellet.

We were walking into the building and sadly we'd decided that to avoid suspicion we'd have to go to class. Although Peej had a scary habit of knowing everything about everyone, and knew how to stay with me all day. It was creepy.

As we were walking, we heard lockers slam- or rather, something slam up against them. It was accompanied by a squeak, and I knew that PJ was in what I refer to as 'Batman' mode. So I had a choice that I'd made so many times; stay behind or follow his dumb ass, and I knew which one I'd choose again and again.

He was cute- I'd give him that. He was almost too skinny, with curly straw-colored hair and bright blue eyes.

"Stop! Stop!" He cried, raising his hands in a useless surrender. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience to have two people move to the same small town in America twice in a row, the only previous example being myself and PJ back in second grade- and even then, I'd been there for a year already.

"He said stop." I snarled, pushing past a thick crowd of people. I could finally see who was doing the bullying- a ridiculous kid named Tyler Anderson.

"And he also knocked all of my books out of my hands." Anderson replied, grabbing at Troye's shirt collar.

"You deaf?" PJ spoke up, yanking Anderson's hands off of Troye.

"He needs to be taught a lesson." Anderson said angrily, "The fag."

"Not sure insinuating something is the best way to avoid a fight with us, mate." I said smoothly. The first punch he doles out is in my direction, but thanks to literally years of doing this, I dodge out of the way. PJ isn't so lucky, though, and I can already tell there is going to be a huge bruise on his cheek tomorrow.

"Hey, not sure you wanted to do that." I said, grabbing the side of his head and knocking it into the metal.

Nobody messes with my PJ. Nobody.

"You really didn't have to do that, now we'll just get in trouble." PJ whined, sprinting with me and Troye towards the band room. Of course, I was the only one who didn't miss Dan and Phil returning with Ms. Whilton to assess the situation.

"I don't make smart decisions. You should know this by now." I rolled my eyes. Troye was looking at us with such hope and thankfulness.

I pity him.

Truth be told, Phil had already started to drift away from us. He seemed to be getting more and more lonely, just like Connor did.

Maybe it was depressing. Maybe it was hopeless- but there was something about Troye. His words were a bit more thoughtful, and it seemed that maybe he wanted to escape to 'home' as well. Maybe he was just like us.

Although I doubt it. His home is so far different than ours. His home is a place, and he left it in South Africa. His home is his family and his friends, and he left them all behind in South Africa. His home isn't in song lyrics or journals or feelings like PJ's or mine, but those places are where you can hear his pain.

He's different than the others. And that's what makes him special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this chapter was decently long. I'm thinking the order is going to be Dan, Connor, Chris, Tyler, PJ, Phil, then Troye, and then one last chapter in third person. See you guys... sometime... bye!


End file.
